Rhaine woke to the sound of her phone buzzing against her bedside table. She groaned, pulling her blanket over her face as if hiding under it would block out the world. Her muscles still ached from the tension of the week, and part of her had promised—sworn, really—that Saturday would belong only to her bed, her books, and maybe a long nap that bled into the evening.
But the buzzing didn't stop.
She reached out, blindly groping for the phone, and squinted against the screen's glare.
Maya [8:17 AM]: Wake up, introvert. You're not staying home all day.
Maya [8:18 AM]: Eli and I are outside your house at 10. No excuses.
Maya [8:18 AM]: Don't make me come drag you out myself.
Rhaine groaned again, this time into her pillow. "Why does she act like she owns my Saturday?"
Still, her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. Maya was relentless—bright, bossy, and irritating in all the ways that sometimes made Rhaine secretly grateful. Without her, she probably would've vanished into the background months ago.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. A dozen responses formed in her mind: I'm busy. Not feeling well. Homework. All flimsy excuses. And Maya, with her uncanny ability to read her, would dismantle them one by one.
So instead, Rhaine sent the safest reply she could manage:
Rhaine [8:21 AM]: Fine.
---
By ten, Rhaine found herself standing by her front gate, arms crossed, glaring at Maya's bright grin from the passenger seat of Eli's beat-up sedan.
"Look at her," Maya said, nudging Eli. "She's glaring at us like we kidnapped her. Which, to be fair, we kinda did."
"Kidnapped introvert energy," Eli said, tapping the steering wheel with mock seriousness. "Classic. Textbook."
Rhaine rolled her eyes but climbed into the backseat anyway. "You two are unbearable."
"Correction," Maya shot back, spinning in her seat to face her. "We're the reason you don't rot inside your bedroom. You should be thanking us."
"I could be reading right now."
"You'll live," Maya said cheerfully.
Rhaine muttered something under her breath, but the corner of her lips betrayed her, curling despite her best efforts.
---
The mall on a Saturday was alive in a way that made Rhaine both restless and overstimulated. Bright signs, the hum of chatter, laughter echoing near the arcade—everywhere she looked was color and noise. She trailed behind Maya and Eli, clutching the strap of her bag like a lifeline.
"Café first," Maya announced, already pointing toward a cozy shop tucked near the escalator. "Fuel before fun."
They found a corner booth, sunlight spilling through wide windows. Rhaine sat pressed against the wall, grateful for the barrier at her side. She half-listened as Maya and Eli debated over milk tea flavors until the waitress came, took their order, and left them in the buzz of other Saturday-goers.
It felt… normal. Almost easy. The kind of thing that should relax her.
And maybe it would have, if Maya hadn't pulled out her phone with suspicious delight.
"Oh, by the way," she said casually, tapping at her screen. "Someone's joining us."
Rhaine's stomach sank. "…Who?"
Maya's grin widened. "Relax. You'll see."
---
The bell above the café door jingled. Rhaine glanced up—and froze.
Sam stood there, casual in a light jacket, her hair tied loosely, glasses slipping a little down her nose. Her eyes scanned the café before landing on their booth. A small smile curved her lips.
Rhaine's heart lurched so hard it almost hurt.
She darted her gaze to Maya, who looked way too smug. "You didn't."
"I did," Maya said, sing-song.
Eli leaned back, watching the scene with amused detachment. "I told her you'd murder her for this. Guess I was right."
Rhaine's jaw clenched. "Why would you—"
"Because," Maya cut in, lowering her voice just enough to sound conspiratorial. "You two need to stop acting like strangers orbiting the same planet. You're friends. Get used to it."
Rhaine wanted to snap back, to argue, but Sam was already approaching, and her tongue turned to lead.
"Hey," Sam said, sliding into the empty space beside Rhaine before she could protest. "Hope I'm not intruding."
Rhaine's body went rigid. "You are."
Sam blinked, then chuckled softly, as if she hadn't expected any other answer. "Good to see you too."
---
The drinks came, and conversation flowed. Mostly between Maya and Eli, occasionally with Sam slipping in with a comment or quiet joke. Rhaine sipped her milk tea like it was a shield, speaking only when directly addressed.
She could feel Sam's presence beside her—the warmth radiating, the subtle scent of her shampoo, the way her arm brushed Rhaine's when they both reached for napkins. Every accidental touch sent sparks across her skin she refused to acknowledge.
She hated how aware she was.
She hated how easy Sam seemed, how unaffected, while she sat there unraveling inside.
"After this," Maya said, slurping the last of her drink, "bookstore."
Eli groaned. "Again?"
"Yes, again. Culture yourself."
Sam tilted her head. "Bookstore sounds good."
Rhaine glared into her cup. Of course Sam agreed. Of course this day would turn into that.
---
The bookstore was quieter, lined with the smell of paper and ink. Rhaine drifted toward the fiction shelves, fingers brushing spines, the familiar comfort grounding her.
Then Sam's voice, low and close: "Looking for something?"
Rhaine startled, almost dropping the book in her hand. She turned, defensive already. "Do you follow me on purpose?"
Sam blinked. "I was just—"
"Everywhere I go, you're there." Rhaine's voice rose sharper than she intended. "School, group projects, and now this. It's like—like the universe thinks I need a babysitter."
Sam's expression shifted, not hurt exactly, but quietly studying her. "…Or maybe the universe thinks you need a friend."
The words hit like a stone against glass.
Rhaine scoffed, shoving the book back on the shelf. "I don't need anyone."
But her chest ached with the lie.
---
The arcade was a blur of lights and sounds. Eli immediately dragged Maya toward the basketball hoops, their competitive shouts echoing through the space.
Rhaine hung back, arms crossed, watching.
Sam stepped beside her, not too close, but enough. "You're quieter than usual."
Rhaine snorted. "You don't know what my 'usual' is."
Sam smiled faintly. "Maybe not. But I'd like to."
Rhaine's throat tightened. She wanted to snap, to push her away, to insist again that she didn't need anyone. Instead, she muttered, "Why do you keep trying?"
Sam didn't answer right away. Her eyes lingered on the flashing machines, the laughing kids. Then, softly: "Because you're worth it."
Rhaine's breath caught.
Before she could form a retort, Maya shouted for them to join the game, breaking the moment. Rhaine all but bolted forward, relief and panic tangling in her chest.
---
By the time the day wound down, exhaustion pressed heavy on Rhaine's shoulders. She mumbled half-hearted goodbyes, letting Eli drive her home before anyone else could say more.
Her room was dark when she collapsed onto her bed. She replayed every second of the day: Sam's words, her laugh, the way she'd looked at her in the bookstore.
And the way her own chest had betrayed her, tight with something she refused to name.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
One new message.
Sam [8:57 PM]: Did you get home safe?
Rhaine stared at the screen, heart pounding. A simple question. Innocent. Normal.
And yet it burned.
She dropped the phone face down, rolled onto her back, and pressed the heel of her hand against her eyes.
"Why can't you just leave me alone," she whispered to the ceiling.
But her chest answered with silence—because the truth wasn't that she wanted Sam gone.
It was that she wanted her closer.